< previous page page_376 next page >

Page 376
ous day's jousting. There was less danger of slipping. That was good, but there was also nothing at all to hold the dry earth down. That was not so good, because the dust, disturbed by the horses' hooves, would soon obscure from the judges and the audience much of what was happening.
Ian guffawed briefly when the thought crossed his mind. Much good the judges could do him, even with the best will in the world to help and even if they did see what was happening. Their power was limited to calling a foul and depriving the guilty party of horse and armor ransom. Since dead men do not pay ransom, the point was moot. Of course, theoretically, the judges could also stop the fighting if they saw any large-scale dishonorable action. The notion made Ian laugh again. Stopping the fighting in a tourney was not like picking apart two small boys who were in a squabble. It took time to stop a tourney, and in that time the work on him might be finished three times over.
"You are in good spirits, my lord."
Ian turned his head to look at FitzWalter. "I am indeed," he remarked blandly. "The nice thing about being battle leader in a tournament is that the responsibility ends once the sides are chosen and marshaled on the field. In a war, a leader must continue to worry about the safety and the movements of his men, you knowor do you know?"
FitzWalter's face turned purple. His ransom had been paid by the king, but many of the men from Vaudreuil still languished in French prisons. Ian's remark was an open insult, and he had spoken quite deliberately to see how far the man would go. He went the full route.
A grimace that was meant for a smile pulled at FitzWalter's lips. Choking on the words, he replied, "You are very merry, my lord, very merry, and a little excited, too, I think. Too excited to weigh words care-

 
< previous page page_376 next page >